Oh, those bows!

From the minute Michael and Kristin were engaged, my little girls have been merrily planning for their Flower Girl Day. Oblivious to anything but the happily-ever-after theme of a wedding, they have loved every minute of the last year. 

Very late in our wedding planning, I recognized that I had no plan for their hair. Karoline's hair is very curly. Katie's is heavy and straight. Sarah's is fine and straight . Kristin thought "half up" and curly. We practiced curling the straight hair for a week, trying this method and that until everyone was satisfied. Then it dawned on me that I didn't have bows to go with the dresses.

It was moments before Christmas and the girls suggested I ask "Elle's mom" about her bows. Elle is in Karoline's ballet class. With that, Elle's mom became a part of our handmade wedding. Despite a lack of local ivory ribbon-and-no time to order-and-a classroom full of kindergartners learning a whole bunch of new security things the week before break-and-the fact that she had to get her own family on the road for Christmas in order to get ahead of a blizzard {whew!}, she delivered these beauties to my doorstep, late one night on her way out of town.

Perfect. 

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Thank you for your kind words and prayers yesterday. I think I hit rock-bottom around three yesterday afternoon. I'm pretty sure I sent Ginny a couple of desperate emails. In addition to her warm words, she also helped me find these pictures. Pictures have a way of telling a deeper story, a side story, sometimes sharpening a memory and sometimes offering a unique hope for the future.

And sometimes, the perfect picture, from the perspective of a friend, is just the perfect, perfect laugh. 

(Karoline's bow probably had the most fun;-)

I slept a solid eight hours last night for the first time since Thanksgiving. Hope is definitely on the rise!

All photos are Ginny's.

The post that took a week to write

Eleven hours after we arrived home from the wedding, at 11:00 on Sunday morning, we hosted 50 or 60 people at our house to celebrate Patrick and send him off to college. Even now, as I write this, it sounds like a stupid idea. Who does that? Who pushes to do a birthday party, a huge Christmas party for extended family, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, a rehearsal and dinner, a wedding and reception, and then a brunch all in the space of nine days? With nine kids? And all at our house except for the rehearsal and wedding days.

I do. Did.

WIth the brunch, I thought I had a good plan. We'd bring in most of the food, picking up after 8:30 Mass. I talked to the contractor who had helped with our renovations and he agreed to have a cleaning crew in my house on the day of wedding. So, from Christmas until the wedding, I just worried about keeping things fairly picked up. Our contractor is wonderful and I had every confidence he'd polish things to a suitable company shine.

The cleaning people didn't show. At 11:00 PM, upon arriving home from the wedding, all my big kids (except Michael and with the addition of Hilary and Molly) and Mike and I started cleaning house. We pulled it off. Mostly. I don't know. I remember very little of the day after. I know Kristin and Michael came by for mochas before I left for Mass and they left for the airport. I know the house filled with people, food was eaten, and everyone left. And I know that at 5:00 that evening I faded into my couch. I think I even slept;-).

I thought this week would be a mellow one, that I'd catch up on some rest and do some (fun) things I've wanted to get to but haven't had time. Instead, I have grown to recognize that my "to do after the wedding" list was ridiculously long. Patrick has to leave earlier than we thought and we're in scramble mode. Christian has several important appointments before the start of the new semester. The new soccer schedule has some big surprises in it. Life is just barreling ahead. 

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Typepad tells me I wrote the above five days ago. I remember I was interrupted and then I took kids to the doctor to be diagnosed with flu. Let's begin again. How about a Monday Morning Almanac? Jump to the end of the now very dated brunch pictures, please.

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I find myself:

::noticing God's glory

It's cold outside and I have trouble staying warm even inside. Still, I've resolved to get out and walk every day.

::listening to 

The trash trucks careening through the early morning. 

::clothing myself in 

Two new Anna Maria scarves this week--one voile and one a voile-velveteen infinity. Made by me, for me. Yay! 

::talking with my children about these books

Small Steps for Catholic Moms. Karoline had an idea for a family project. A really good idea. 

::thinking and thinking

Oh, my. Lots to think about. Right now, though, I'm forcing myself to confront the fact that Patrick leaves Thursday. I think I've put it off as long as I could. I told myself I wouldn't think about it until after the new year began. Then, the date was moved up and we realized we hadn't even begun to make packing lists, and, well, the denial strategy isn't working.

::pondering prayerfully

A quarrel between friends, when made up, adds a new tie to friendship. -St. Francis de Sales

::carefully cultivating rhythm

I know that this week won't be completely "normal" because there is packing and leaving to do, but I definitely intend to re-establish the focused, intentional learning times and spaces around here.

::creating by hand

I think I will try to conquer those nightgowns I once intended for St. Lucy's Day. And I've been happily knitting the first of the Easter sweaters. I do plan a post of knitting and sewing plans, mostly just to create a visual organizer for myself. 

::learning lessons in

letting go.

::encouraging learning 

I wrapped a fresh set of Bob Books for Epiphany. Our first set was tattered beyond being "vintage." Karoline and Sarah are tickled. 

::begging prayers

for Elizabeth DeHority and Kelly Davignon and Jen Fulwiler.

::keeping house

Sigh. It's time to pack away Christmas. Usually, I'm pretty eager. I like the feel of uncluttered space. This year, though, I don't feel like I've had time to sit and linger in the light.

That fact is reflected here, too. There is no "year in review" post, no "Christmas recap" post, no resolution post. I'm still pondering this home in cyberspace and what I want it to be. Ironically, I've had very little time for it in the last few months and, even as I ponder, I wonder if it isn't futile planning. Will I have time for it now? Perhaps next week I'll have a better sense of the "new normal."

::crafting in the kitchen 

It's a roast chicken kind of day. And then, bone broth. I am wanting and needing to re-commit to the strictest of the paleo autoimmune protocol. Even the little bit of wandering I did over the last few weeks has wreaked havoc with my joints. 

Mary Beth and I had a little fun yesterday and left some treasures in a new kitchen. We snuck over and spruced up at Michael's and Kristin's house before they got home. It's always more fun to clean and polish in someone else's house isn't it?

::loving the moments

when everyone is gathered here on a Sunday afternoon. (Documented on Instagram. Follow me @heartofmyhome or click the camera icon in the top right sidebar. See you there!)

::giving thanks 

for a ridiculously peaceful Christmas season. It's a miracle, really, in every sense of the word. God is so good. 

living the liturgy

I love liturgy. Love it. While I certainly relish bringing the liturgical year to life for my children through food and art and traditions, it's the Liturgy of the Hours and the liturgy of the Mass that anchor my soul. As my children get older, they still delight in the comfort of liturgical traditions (little "t"), but I hope that they, too, will take into their hearts the unfailing gift of grown-up Liturgy.   

::planning for the week ahead

Thursday looks to be pretty huge. Some important appointments for Christian. Patrick's last day home. My birthday. Nothing, nothing like last year. Sigh.

needle and thREAD meets Yarn Along

I had an a vision during Advent: a handknit sweater, a skirt made of stashed Anna Maria Horner flannel and a pretty AMH ribbon, and those TOMS (the ones that have taken on such meaning). Sarah would wear it all for Paddy's brunch the day after the wedding. It was a golden vision.

Totally in my head.

I never really put them all together until after I was finished knitting and sewing (and that happened around the morning of the 28th). The vision didn't quite become a reality;-). The sweater is a bit too snug through the chest and not really the right shade of gold to go with the skirt. Oh, well. She likes it. She went to bed talking about her "golden clothes."

Reading has been sparse this week. I started two books, The Language of Flowers and A Homemade Life. The first glances of each were depressing so I put them aside. I downloaded The Art of Family to read in the orthodontist's office, but my friend Jen was there, so we spent the morning chatting instead.

What are you sewing and reading this week? Tell me about your handmade Christmas gifts!

Make sure the link you submit is to the URL of your blog post or your specific Flickr photo and not your main blog URL or Flickr Photostream. Please be sure and link to your current needle and thREAD post below in the comments, and not a needle and thREAD post from a previous week. If you don't have a blog, please post a photo to the needle & thREAD group at Flickr. 

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 For more knitting and reading, visit Ginny.

Auld Lang Syne

    

    I almost didn't do it. I debated and debated, wrestled in my mind and spent a ridiculous amount of time wondering what they would think. Proper enough? Stylish enough? Fancy enough? What would they think?

    In the end, I went for it. TOMS for the wedding just seemed like the perfect thing to do. The girls really wanted to do it. The bride was on board. We could buy five pairs of TOMS for us and then TOMS would give five pairs of shoes to children in need. Honestly, it was the most liberating decision I made. I worried a lot about money over the last four months. We spent a lot of money the last four months. But this money? This was money well spent. My girls love these shoes. They were comfortable and adorable on Saturday. The girls and I will wear them all the time until we wear them out. And they looked just perfectly us. Even better, TOMS gave us a way to give even as we were clothing ourselves. Days later, every time I see sparkling little feet, my heart skips for joy.

    I've made a lot of decisions in the last year. We renovated our house. We helped plan a wedding. We took a trip. All of those things were out of my comfort zone. We did big, big things. And there were old voices in my head all the while. Voices that raise objections to the choices I've made. A house full of noisy, messy children. A giant van and a really old car. School at home. A handmade life. I cared too much about what the voices thought, about approval, about appreciation.

    A life woven around liturgy, every single day. It looked so different to them, so odd, so unimportant. They didn't say it right out loud, but I knew they were talking. I cared about what they thought, even as I deliberately chose a very different path. I could hear the voices. Voices that contradict the life I've chosen. Voices that care way too much about the way things look and not nearly enough about the way things really are.

    They're quiet now. I choose not to listen ever again.

    I've slipped my feet into a pair of TOMS (I didn't wear them for the wedding, preferring a very pretty pair of gold heels, but I did wear them until moments before and immediately after) and I've walked away from a legacy of mirages and facades. 

    Never have I been so sure of Sacrament as I was whilst kneeling in prayer as Ave Maria was sung after communion at the Nuptial Mass. Never have I been so sure that this life of faith--the one that found us and the one we've pursued--is so well worth the effort it takes to live it in the current culture. Never have I been so sure that being true to my own soul, to making decisions that match the vision my Maker has of me, is how to be truly joyful, in happy times and in times when sadness envelopes me. 

God's plan is not the plan that has been trumpeted by those voices all these years.     They sound like cheap tin horns now.

    God's plan is voiced in a quiet whisper on a way-too-early morning while cradling a croupy toddler. And God's plan is voiced in a glorious, triumphant shout on an afternoon in the octave of Christmas in a breathtaking church.

    God's voice is the steady, guiding cadence of the liturgy, day in and day out. It is in the words of the Mass, every single carefully crafted one of them. 

    It is the very Word that breathed life into our souls and the only genuine breath of life. His voice is peace and that peace is mine.

Photo credit: lorielizabethphotography.com

Wedding Moments on a Monday

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So many moments I want to remember. Not for a second can I begin to  capture them here. I think I've hesitated to put words to the moments because I'm quite sure I can't adequately express my heart. So, let's just try to catch a few moments.

::This was a small, intimate wedding.  Of all my girlfriends, only two were there. They came with their cameras and they offered us the gift of their art. Forever, we will remember the wedding through their eyes. For me, I know I entrusted wedding memories to kindred spirits who know my heart. That's a rare treasure. Several years ago, a photographer named Lori asked if I'd like her to take pictures in the bluebells. I hesitated, because those woods are so very special and personal to our family. I couldn't fathom a photoshoot there. Mike encouraged me to jump at the chance. All through that beautiful day in the woods, Lori kept saying, "You have to meet my friend Ginny. You two--you're a lot alike." I met Ginny in those same woods a couple years later. And our friendship has grown into a treasure of my heart. The gift of these pictures is just the beginning. The gift of their understanding was priceless.

::Mary Beth was terribly sick the week before the wedding. So many of my logistical plans hinged on her. At the last moment, Kristin suggested we invite Mary Beth's darling friend Molly to be one of the family for the weekend. And Molly--lover of weddings--enthusiastically jumped in. I think that between eleven o'clock Friday evening and the march down the aisle Saturday, Molly spent eight hours curling hair. She was sweet and gracious and wonderful and willing to do anything to make the day fairytale perfect. Girlfriends. They're the best.

::Seven minutes before I was to walk down the aisle, Patrick knocked on the Bride's Room door. He insisted that Michael needed to see me immediately. Fighting panic, I practically sprinted across the back of the church to the sacristy. I looked at all the people gathered and briefly wondered if the groom had cold feet. I ducked inside and Michael held a small, tissue-wrapped package. "Kristin and I don't want you to cry. But we thought you should have this before the wedding." Inside, was a handkerchief embroidered with the familiar words of a bedtime story I've read a million times in the last 24 years. They were the words my children have sung at bedtime into Mike's voicemail when he is away. When I first read Love You Forever, I thought it was creepy. What mother picks up grown sons when they are sleeping to rock them? Totally weird. As my boys have grown though, I've understood the message. Mothers never stop wanting to make the world safe, to keep their babies close and ensure they know they're loved. Never. When my friend Jan saw a picture of the handkerchief, she said, "Nothing could have made you happier." She is so right.

::All weekend long, I got text messages and emails and sweet notes from girlfriends who were holding me in prayer. Never have I seen the Holy Spirit and the communion of saints so visibly. Not a one was hurt that they weren't there. They understood. And then they prayed.

::There was moment before the girls walked down the aisle that I think has escaped everyone's camera. Just outside the sacristy door, my five boys gathered themselves into a huddle. I'm not sure what all was said. I hear that Michael told Paddy how much he appreciated the latter's decision to forego earrings on this day. What else? I don't know. I just know that the sight of them there filled my heart to its fullest and made my husband's eyes spill over. Patrick's girlfriend Hilary was sitting next to us. I caught her eye. We looked at Mike. And the three of us shared the moment. One day, God willing, I will be very old. My memory will fail. I dearly hope that someone will remind me of that moment. I never want to forget.

::The plan for the recessional was for me to take Sarah's hand and Mike to take Karoline's hand and my arm and then for the four of us to walk down the aisle. Karoline escaped Mike and skipped all the way down the aisle. Oh, yes she did. And she caught the spirt of our joy as she always does.

::This was a handmade wedding. The flowers were a gift of love from Kristin's roommate. Kristin sewed her own veil and upcycled her rehearsal dinner dress from a vintage wedding dress. We had a wedding favor party in my kitchen on Nutcracker weekend and assembled darling gifts for guests. The cake was the creation and gift of Megan Kampa, one of Michael's childhood friends and homeschooling buddies. It was carried into the reception hall by their friend Billy, now a marine. Hours and hours of love went into the details. And hours and hours of love are still being poured into the photographs. Handmade. Heartfelt. So good. (Lots of those pictures are on Instagram @heartofmyhome or you can click the camera icon on the sidebar.)

::I thoroughly enjoyed the little chats I had with Kristin's friends and relatives. Small weddings are truly wonderful for making meaningful connections. I don't think I've ever known a more thoughtful bride.

::Nicholas gave a toast that brought the house down. It was so good that the wait staff in the room left to go get the rest of the staff to come hear the twelve-year-old who is now seriously contemplating a career as a stand-up comic. He'd have to take his ghostwriter with him. Christian, no doubt, is a gifted speechwriter. Genius was the word I heard more than once.

::Hilary caught the bouquet. Everyone--everyone--was ever so glad. Perfect. Just perfect.

::Michael swept Karoline up to dance Sweet Caroline. Not a dry eye in the house. 

::At the end of the evening, after Ginny and Lori had headed home, Michael played the song that Mike had chosen for our first dance twenty-five years ago. My husband held me close and I could not take my eyes off his face. I just kept saying, "We did this. We did this." I didn't mean the wedding. I meant something much, much bigger. God. Mike. Me. Together for something big. Mike understood. I'm pretty sure there are no pictures of the dance. I'll never forget, though.

All photos: Ginny, who spent her birthday with my memories.